


Coercion

by Dystopian_Dramaqueen



Category: The Handmaid's Tale (TV), The Handmaid's Tale Series - Margaret Atwood
Genre: Deeper exploration of Nick’s experience being forced to consummate his marriage, F/M, Just Gilead forcing unwanted intercourse under threat of death, Not a Happy Story, Rape, not sexy, not smut, remixed it so june has to fully confront the gravity of what she asked nick to do, which is the definition of rape
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-07
Updated: 2021-03-07
Packaged: 2021-03-13 08:14:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,721
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29898213
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dystopian_Dramaqueen/pseuds/Dystopian_Dramaqueen
Summary: (TW) rape, forced sex, loss of virginityRape is not always violent. Not all victims scream. Not all victims say “no” out loud. Not all victims are women.Eden was a victim of statutory rape. Too young to give consent.Nick was a rape victim because he did not want the sex and could not say no, under threat to his life.Rape is a type of sexual assault usually involving sexual intercourse or other forms of sexual penetration carried out against a person without that person's consent. The act may be carried out by physical force, coercion, abuse of authority, or against a person who is incapable of giving valid consent, such as one who is unconscious, incapacitated, has an intellectual disability, or is below the legal age of consent.It matters. Imagine being forced to have sex with a boss or relative to keep your safety or job. Even if it was non violent. Even if you didn’t shout “no.” Even if you were male. Then being told by society you were not raped. That you wanted it, even, or you wouldn’t have been hard. Imagine the damage from those ignorant words. Men can be coerced into sex they do not want and can’t say no to. That is still rape.
Relationships: Nick Blaine/Eden Spencer, Nick Blaine/June Osborne | Offred
Kudos: 15





	Coercion

Nick looks up, brows cinching together. “She’s 15 years old.”

“Oh, you have to fuck someone you don’t WANT to? Poor thing.”

“That’s not fair.” 

“Fair?”

“I **can’t**.” 

June steps close, staring him down, her voice breaking with intensity. “Yes you CAN. Because I can’t lose you. Do you hear me?” 

Nick blinks, staring blankly into space. Lost. Horrified. June’s words sink in. Eden told June that he hadn’t touched her. She’ll tell Serena. Call him a gender traitor. He’ll be executed. Unless he consummates his marriage. A pressure builds in his chest. He’d rather die. But June’s eyes are begging him to get through it, no matter the cost. Like she survives her ceremonies with Waterford. The words spill out before he can stop them. 

“I love you.” 

June freezes in her tracks. 

Nick’s words hang heavy. Unanswered. The silence breaks his heart. 

Her heart is breaking too, but she can’t afford to soften her stance. The stakes are too high. Nick’s life is on the line. Even if he doesn’t see that, she does. _I can’t protect you from this._ June squares her shoulders, burying her feelings. “I know.” She whispers. “But she’s your wife.” 

June retreats quickly before her resolve crumbles.

It isn’t until June slides down, with her back against her door, that reality creeps in. The gravity of what she’d asked him to do. Horrific images flood her mind. 

_Shadows. Sighs. Candles. Kisses. Satin. Skin._

She shakes her head, trying to clear it. Tears run freely down her face as she realizes she’s asked Nick to do something she can’t even bear to imagine. 

***BAM* *BAM* *BAM***

June jumps as three firm knocks shake her bedroom door. 

She wipes her face, standing quickly. She smoothes her dress before answering the door. 

It’s Rita, looking apologetic, like she’s delivering a death warrant.

June searches her face. “What?”

Rita lowers her gaze, staring at a spot on the floor between them, her voice formal and emotionless. “Your presence is required in the parlor. Tonight at nine o’ clock. Don’t be late.”

June shakes her head, sensing a trap. Rita remains stone faced and silent. June wants to shake her. “Why?” She finally chokes out. 

“A ceremony.”

The earth gives way. June blinks heavily, choosing her next words carefully. “The ceremony isn’t for 2 more weeks.”

Rita nods. “A First Night Bedding Ceremony for Nick and Eden.”

June’s throat constricts to stifle a sob. Her hands ball into fists at her sides, trembling violently. Minutes pass in silence before June is able to drag her gaze back to Rita’s. 

Rita’s eyes shine with sympathy. “Mrs. Waterford asked Eden how it felt to finally be a woman. If she felt any different. When Eden didn answer, Mrs. Waterford realized that Nick hadn’t consummated the marriage yet.”

Rita looks down.

“Mrs. Waterford told Eden it wasn’t her fault. Your hospital visit distracted Nick from his duties on their wedding night. Mrs. Waterford assured Eden that protocol would be followed, and offered to re-create the sacred space they deserve.”

June is trembling violently. “The fuck does that mean?”

“The household will oversee the ceremony.”

\-----------------------------------------

Nick takes his time walking back to his apartment. His steps are slow and heavy, like he’s heading to his own execution. On his wedding night June had saved him from this same trap. This time there would be no escape. 

When Eden greets him, he can barely look at her. His stomach churns violently. _I’ve got to talk to her. Before. Somehow._ His mouth opens, but the words never come, and he closes it again. 

He busies himself hanging his coat, washing his hands before settling on his window seat, fiddling nervously with his lighter. Flicking it open and closed. Open and closed. His eyes wander to June’s window, still searching for an escape. Praying for a sign. Even one sympathetic glance from her. Something he could hold on to, something to make him feel less alone. But there was nothing. 

Eden brings him a mug of chamomile tea with honey. Nick murmurs thanks and sips it, nodding when she asks his opinion on small household matters. Hating himself. Hating all of it. 

Nick’s eyes glaze over as he assesses his options. He could leave. Disappear. But that would leave Rita, Eden and June in the hands of a wrathful Waterford. They’d be punished for his cowardice. He could kill Fred and Serena. A fantasy he indulged in daily. He’d thought through that scenario hundreds of times. The women would be safe from Fred, but he’d end up on the wall, and what then. Another household. More violence. Resignation settles over him. _There’s no escape. For any of us. No way out._

As he watches Eden buzzing around the apartment, chatting contentedly about interior decoration, he feels deep compassion for her. _I wish she was with someone who loved her. Someone who could take care of her._ A deep protective instinct surfaces. _None of this is her fault. She has no more choice than I do. She’s a captive too._ Nick feels a realization growing. The act could be traumatic or tolerable, depending entirely on him. 

Nick sets his tea down, asking Eden to sit down next to him. She sits obediently, with a worried look on her face. It takes him several minutes to find the words. 

“I’d like to come to bed tonight.” 

Eden smiles. “Of course, silly. It’s your house.”

Nick shakes his head. “I’d like to come to bed with _you_.” His eyes search hers for recognition. 

Eden’s brows rise. She blushes and smoothes her dress. “Of course. Praise be.”

Nick steels himself for the rest of the conversation. “This is your first time?”

She looks up, shocked he’d ask. “Of course.”

Nick nods. “The first time is...painful.” 

“God will be with me.”

Nick clenches his jaw. _There’s no God in this place._ “It takes time to get ready. I can help you, I just need you to trust me. Ok? And if it hurts, we can stop.”

***BAM* *BAM* *BAM***

Nick’s brow wrinkles at the intrusion. _Not fucking now._

He opens the door to find Rita, who conveys the same message she’d delivered to June. Nick’s face blanches as he realizes what she’s saying. He knows about the bedding ceremony. It’s the norm in most Gilead households. The fact that Fred had spared him that particular humiliation had been a gesture of good will. A gift. 

The bedding ceremony is modeled on European tradition. Family and friends are present to show love and support for the new couple. The observers are to remain silent. The newlyweds are to act as if they’re alone. Once the coupling is complete, the bed sheet is displayed to the court as definitive proof the marriage has been consummated.

Nick knew the Waterfords held no love for him. He’d been married to a child as a punishment for speaking out of turn to Serena. As a way of keeping his attention away from June’s abuse. The Waterfords were twisted, perverted sadists. They would attend this evening to ensure that his punishment was carried out. They would delight in his submission. They would drink in June’s suffering like a fine wine. 

Eden smiles, thanking Rita. She scurries to prepare refreshments for their guests. 

Nick battles panic. He needs to finish talking to her, but he can’t. His chest is tight. There isn’t enough air. He grabs his cigarettes and coat, racing down the stairs. Walking fast toward the gate. Needing an escape. 

  
  


\-------------------------

Nick returns at dusk. 

The apartment is spotless. Eden has lit the lamps, along with scented candles. The soft flickering glow creates a cave like ambiance. Their table is covered with plates of cookies and vegetables and cheese. Pitchers of tea and coffee. 

Nick locks himself in the bathroom, showering quickly. He dresses in his sleep clothes. 

\-----------------------------

The knock comes promptly at 9:15pm. 

Nick answers the door, gritting his teeth as he steps aside to admit Waterford, Pryce, their new Guardian Issac, followed by Serena, June and Rita. They enter the tiny space, spreading into an awkward semi circle. 

Pryce shakes Nick’s hand with a wide smile. “Congratulations, Son.” Nick nods acknowledgement, trying not to vomit. Serena holds Eden’s hands while Pryce reads the evening’s scripture. 

Nick and Eden kneel at the foot of the bed. Nick leads another prayer from memory. 

When they rise, Pryce turns away to give them some privacy, taking the opportunity to pile food onto his plate before settling on the window seat. 

Eden turns to the wall, removing her underwear and climbing under the ceremonial sheet before removing her nightgown. She pulls the sheet up to her chest, folding her hands. 

Nick removes his shirt, leaving his white tank top. He removes his pants, leaving his shorts in place. He folds his clothes, placing them on his dresser. Panic flares briefly when he realizes there’s nothing else to do. _No escape._ He steals a glance at June, like he had at the wedding. Needing even a scrap of connection to cling to. But June’s eyes are clenched shut, her face sickly pale. 

Serena follows Nick’s gaze, elbowing June and leaning to her ear. “They’ll make beautiful children, don’t you think?”

June opens her eyes. “Yes Mrs. Waterford” she murmurs vacantly.

Nick climbs under the sheets and removes the rest of his clothes, dropping them to the floor. 

He isn’t the first, and won’t be the last man to help a virgin through her first time. _I can protect her. Just for the next hour. Help her through this. Make it as painless as possible._ That doesn’t feel wrong. He holds onto that primal instinct like a life raft. 

Compartmentalization is Nick’s main survival skill. He’s used to walling off whole parts of his identity to survive. 

He draws a slow breath, letting everything go. Sinking into himself until the universe falls away and there’s nothing but this bed, this space where they’re safe and alone. He focuses on sensory details around him. The sheets on his skin. The balmy stagnant air. The crickets chirping outside his window. The stone faced girl trembling next to him. 

Nick rolls to his side to face Eden. She copies the motion, turning to face him. Eden stiffens at the sight of the naked man in bed with her, overwhelmed at the thought of what they were about to do. 

He watches her face closely, and sees her scanning his. Her eyebrows knit together with worry. 

He realizes he isn’t controlling his expression. Grief and despair must be showing in his eyes. Nick relaxes his face, putting his mask back on. He forces a reassuring smile. This seems to ease Eden’s anxiety. 

“Can I touch you?” Nick whispers, soft enough for only her to hear. Eden stares back with curiosity. She hadn’t expected him to involve her in any of this. She nods cautiously. Only then does he place his hand on her arm. Letting her get used to the weight of his touch, the feel of his skin on hers. Nick watches her closely. Staying still until her breathing slows and her muscles relax a bit.

He brushes his thumb against her arm reassuringly. “You ok?”

Eden nods.

He takes her hand, placing it on his chest. Giving her permission to touch him too. She explores him with her eyes and fingertips. Her breath comes faster. She pauses. Waiting for him to lead again.

Nick slides his hand under the sheet, settling on her hip. Caressing gently with his thumb. 

“At this rate we’ll be here all night.” 

  
Nick curses silently at Fred’s intrusion. Fouling the moment with his lust for blood and tears. 

“Maybe we should perform the ceremony for him. I had no idea he had difficulty in this arena.” 

Eden has frozen again. Staring at Nick - eyes full of terror that she’d done something wrong. Hackles rise on Nick’s neck. Not from the insult to his masculinity- ironic though it was coming from an infertile man- but at the thought of Fred hurting Eden. 

“Give the lovers time, Fred. Let them enjoy each other.” Pryce coaxes, refilling his plate.

Serena takes the opportunity to move beside the bed, settling on a chest with her knitting. Giving herself a front row view for what was to come. “Yes, Fred. Maybe you can learn a thing or two about how a man can please his wife.”

Fred sighs. Pouring himself a coffee and settling beside Pryce. Issac grabs a handful of nuts and cheese, returning to his prior position. June and Rita remain motionless, eyes fixed on the floor. 

Eden’s trembling. Lost again. The fragile safety he’d built had shattered. Nick tucks a lock of hair behind her ear, shaking his head. “Ignore them. Just stay with me, ok?” 

Eden nods.

Nick resumes touching her gently. Brushing the backs of his knuckles over her belly. 

Her eyelids flutter before closing as her mouth drops open. Her eyebrows relax as his hand moves lower. She holds onto his shoulder as he coaxes her body to soften and open for him. 

“Is this ok?” he asks. Eden nods breathlessly. 

Nick feels nothing. He’s detached from all of it. Like an observer noting reactions and providing stimulation in response. It’s comfortable. He can stay here. He can help her through this.

Until Eden’s hand moves down, brushing against Nick’s lifeless manhood. 

His panic spikes. _I don’t want this._ He grasps wildly for some fantasy. Some distraction. Thinking of June. Her body in his bed. Her hands on him. _This isn’t June._ He shrinks inside himself. Ignoring the screaming in his mind. _I don’t want this._

Nick moves closer, closing his eyes. He blanks his mind. He needs it to be over. He pleasures her in earnest, probing gently with the tip of a finger, then two. 

When she’s ready, Nick shifts, climbing on top of the ceremonial sheet. He settles his hips against Eden’s. Letting her adjust to his weight on top of her.

Serena’s knitting needles have gone silent. The room collectively holds it’s breath. Nick realizes there’s nothing covering him. He’s exposed. 

Eden grabs his hips, her eyes begging him. _Do it._

“Ready?”

Eden nods.

Nick closes his eyes, hating himself. He pushes. Eden’s fingernails dig into his skin. He presses forward against resistance, until it gives way. He knows it’s done by Eden’s sharp inhale of breath through clenched teeth. She’s trembling. Breath held to fight sobs. 

_Focus. Help her._ He adjusts, lowering his forehead to touch hers. “I’m sorry.” 

Eden’s still. A tear falls down her cheek. She says nothing. After a moment, the tension drops out of her muscles. She opens her eyes, nodding at Nick. 

Nick wishes the next part didn’t depend on him somehow participating. He closes his eyes. Dissociating. Letting his body move just enough to be convincing. It’s awkward and halting. 

Nick buries his head in her neck, groaning loudly as he pretends to finish. 

_It’s done._

Before he can untangle himself, Eden leans up, cupping his cheeks to kiss him gently. He doesn’t pull away, but he doesn't kiss her back. He can’t. Kisses imply love and he doesn’t love her. It would be a lie. 

Shame rips through his veins like an icy dagger. 

Serena’s knitting needles resume their work. 

The protective shield he’d created around them is fading fast. Reality begins flooding in. The truth of what had just happened makes him want to cry. Vomit. Scream. A primal rage rises in his heart, a merciful relief from his guilt and self hatred. 

He stands quickly, pulling on his pants and shirt, handing Eden her nightgown. She slips it on quickly. 

Pryce walks to the bed, smiling, and holds up the bloody sheet for the household to see. 

No one looks except Fred, who all but licks his lips, quivering with perverse satisfaction.

Nick crosses the room, stopping in front of Fred, inches from his face, holding his gaze until Fred meets it. 

Nick’s voice is murderously calm. 

“She should rest.” 

Fred shrugs smugly, turning to invite Pryce to his study for cigars and brandy. _Pryce_. Not Nick. A reminder of his station as a servant. 

Serena kneels beside Eden, blessing her belly.

Eden beams. 

Nick turns to the wall, gritting his teeth. He lights a cigarette. He feels a pull. A lingering presence behind him. His heart aches when he realizes who it is. A flood of grief washes over him. He turns, chancing another glance at June. She’s far away. Like he’s looking across an ocean at a distant memory. 

She’s frozen. Staring. Broken. Because no one had protected _her_. 

Rita collects June, leading her toward the door with slow halting steps. 

Nick sits on the side of his bed, listening as their steps retreat down the stairs. His door is open so he hears June collapse in the garden. Sobbing, hitting the ground with her fists. He hurries to the door in time to see Rita gather June up and lead her inside the house. 

Nick clenches his jaw as he closes the door. 

Pouring water for himself and Eden, he sets a glass on her bedside table. “I’ll clean up out here.” 

Eden nods, hearing his unspoken suggestion that she clean up in the bathroom. 

Nick returns to his kitchen, dumping his water out, refilling the glass with bourbon. He knocks it back. Then another. Then another. He closes his eyes. Fighting the darkness. He knows the deamons will come. Guilt, shame, grief- they’ll surround him like a pack of vultures and pick him to shreds.

_Not yet._

He needs to hold the shield just a little longer. He can’t think about what he’s done. Not yet. Maybe not ever.

He gathers the ceremonial sheet, careful not to look at it as he stuffs it in a trash bag. He changes the linens on his bed, a lit cigarette hanging from his mouth.

He blows out the candles, sticks the food in the fridge and locks the front door. He stamps out his cigarette, drinking one more bourbon for good measure. 

When Eden comes out of the bathroom, wrapped in a towel, holding her bloody nightgown, he takes it from her. He stuffs it in the trashbag and hands her a clean one. _No need to talk about it._

He showers, and that’s when he sees the blood all over him. He vomits, heaving until nothing’s left. 

When he finally goes to bed, Eden’s already tucked in. He isn’t afraid of her anymore. The worst is over. They won’t have to do that again. 

Nick climbs under the sheets, ready to slip into sleep. 

“Did I do ok?”

Nick turns toward the quiet voice next to him. 

“Yea. Was it ok for you?”

Eden nods. “Is it always like that?”

Nick’s mind is flooded with horror. Images of other girls, younger than her, and the brutes they were wed to. He’d heard the talk. He knew that some of them liked the fear. 

Eden’s watching him, worried again. 

The bourbon finally starts to take effect. Warm and safe in his veins. He sinks into it. A place where he isn’t sure what had troubled him. He’d hidden here before. When his mother died. When Josh died. Paused. Frozen. Safe. 

He clears his throat. “I’m glad it didn’t hurt much.” Nick shifts, wrapping an arm around her, letting her cuddle up to his chest. _I can protect her a little longer._ He kisses her forehead, holding Eden until she’s asleep. 

Nick lies awake, waiting for the deamons to come. 

\---------------------------

_He faked it._

June knows that for certain. She knows his sounds better than anyone, and that’s not what his climax sounds like. June repeats this precious fact over and over. It’s her life raft. She clings to it. Blocking out everything else. 

_It wasn’t real._

—————————-

During breakfast, Eden skips in, beaming. Greeting everyone with a wide smile. June watches the back door, but Nick doesn’t follow. 

Eden asks Rita if she can borrow some mint tea. 

“Is he sick?” June asks. 

Eden glances at June- clearly uncomfortable sharing details about her husband so publicly. 

June checks herself and stares at her breakfast. Her own stomach a brick of ice.

“Probably just a stomach bug” she mumbles, taking the tea from Rita. “I’ll make chicken soup for lunch!” 

Serena sweeps into the kitchen. She’s never been happier. She asks if they’d kept trying. Eden blushes and smiles, but says nothing. 

June jabs at her oatmeal, imagining gouging Serena’s eyes out with her knitting needles. 

  
  


\------------------------------

June can’t sleep that night. Something’s wrong. 

She tosses and turns for hours, finally throwing off her blanket around 2 am and pulling on her bathrobe. 

She pads quietly down the stairs on barefeet, avoiding the squeaky steps. 

She’s surprised to find Nick in the solarium, sitting at the table. Staring blankly at his hands. 

June sits beside him, trying to give him space. 

He looks bad. Pale. Sick. Like he’s being devoured from within by a parasite. He’d thought it would help. To be closer to June. That maybe she could hear him. Feel his regret. Heal him somehow. But now with her present, he feels foolish. What they had has been shattered. Maimed beyond repair. 

When June touches his hand, he pulls away. Disgusted with himself. He stands without looking at her, needing to grieve alone.  
  
June stares at the table. 

_Is this it? No. Fuck that._

She follows him outside, closing the back door as quietly as possible. 

He isn’t on the stairs to his apartment. He isn’t on the path. _Where the fuck are you?_

It’s then that she notices the greenhouse door is open. June lets herself in quietly, her heart swelling when she sees him gripping the workbench, his body wracked by silent sobs. 

June wraps her arms around him, and he turns into her arms, holding onto her for dear life. 

June rocks him, smoothing his hair as he weeps bitterly in her arms. 

“I’m sorry.” He grinds out. 

“Shhhh it's ok.”

“I didn’t want to.”

“I know.”

June holds him as he lets it out. Wishing she could take it all back. Make it less painful for him. Knowing that’s impossible. 

All she can do is hold him.


End file.
